The Life, not lies, of Albus Dumbledore
by MistyElizabethDawn
Summary: The story of Harry Potter from Dumbledore's Point of View


Crushing darkness cover Dumbledore; pressing into him until he felt like his breath was to be crushed from him. Then, as soon as it had come, it was over, and he stood on a dark street; the dim lamps lighting up houses on either side. Albus Dumbledore ignored this sight and looked up. A cat sat there; staring at him stiffly, as though she had been there for hours. Of course she _had_ been there for hours; she had been sitting there since that morning, and it was nearly midnight by this time.

Dumbledore, recognizing the cat instantly as professor McGonagall, began chuckling; rummaging in his pocket. "I should have known," he muttered, eventually finding what looked like a cigarette lighter. He flicked the silver object open, held it up in the air, and then clicked it once, which resulted in the street lamp in front of him going out with a small pop. He clicked the thing twelve times until every single lamp was out, and he and the cat, or should I say Professor McGonagall, were in complete darkness.

Dumbledore placed the silver instrument back into his pocket and strode over to the wall next to Number Four Privet Drive, where he sat next to the cat. He paused for a moment, not looking at the cat, but then said, "Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall," he turned his head and smiled at the cat, who had turned into a stern looking woman; her black hair pulled into a very tight bun. She wore emerald green robes and wore glasses that were the same shape as the markings that had been on her fur.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked him; her lips a thin line as she spoke.

"My dear Professor," he said with a soft smile, "I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly,"

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," she replied.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said grumpily. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no - even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head at the window of Number Four Privet Drive . "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent - I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," Dumbledore said gently, "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years,"

"I know that," she replied impatiently, "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She glanced at Dumbledore sharply; a searching look as if she were hoping he would say something. When he said nothing, she continued, "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You- Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of"

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, looking as if she though the question inappropriate for the current conversation. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall winced, but Dumbledore, who was pulling apart two lemon drops, did not seem to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't," she replied, her voice half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one you-know- oh all right, Voldemort, was frightened of,"

"You flatter me," Albus replied softly, "Voldemort had powers I will never have,"

"Only because you're too-well- noble to use them"

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall jerked her head sharply to look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

She looked satisfied, as if she had finally gotten to the topic that she had wanted to discuss; staring at Dumbledore as if he were the only person who could give her the answers she needed.

"What they're saying," she continued, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are - are - that they're - dead. "

Dumbledore looked down at his clasped hands sadly, causing Professor McGonagall to gasp. "Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."

Dumbledore patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he sighed.

Professor McGonagall's voice shook as she said, "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But - he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke - and that's why he's gone.

Dumbledore nodded in agreement

"It's - it's true? She whispered, "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

She pulled a small handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. Dumbledore pulled out a large watch and checked it; hoping to hide the tears that had sprung to his eyes. _It had been in Godric's Hollow… the same place where-_

"Hagrid's late," he said, interrupting his thoughts. He was glad to hear that his voice was smooth, "I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now." He glanced up at Number Four Privet Drive.

"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" McGonagall gasped, jumping up and pointing at number four privet drive. "Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for him," said Dumbledore. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall said weakly. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future - there will be books written about Harry - every child in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking at her seriously. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

She hesitated for a moment before saying, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" She looked around as if she hoped Harry Potter would appear from underneath Dumbledore's cloak.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore; smiling inwardly as he thought of the kind gamekeeper.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place, "she muttered, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?" she looked up with a jerk of her head as a low roaring sound came from down the street; growing louder and louder.

A large motorcycle slid down onto the street from the sky; a giant of a man sitting on top. He wore a large beard that covered most of his face; looking absolutely wild, but held a small bundle of blankets in his hand very gently.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, looking glad to see what he held. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir, "the man replied, moving gingerly off of the motorcycle to ensure that he did not drop his precious package. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Both Dumbledore and McGonagall slid off of the wall and walked over to the man; peering into the blankets that he held. A small baby boy lay inside of them; a lightning-bolt shaped scar just seen under a tuft of black hair that partially covered it.

"Is that where -?" McGonagall gasped.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give him here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took the small boy into his arms; trembling a little as a memory flashed over him of another baby; a girl, with blonde hair; cooing softly in his arms. And then a few years later there was a duel, and she was dead upon the floor. The funeral, when Aberforth had punched him in the nose….

Dumbledore pulled himself out of his little trip down memory lane to hear Hagrid begin to sob loudly.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," Hagrid cried, pulling out a huge handkerchief. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -"

"Yes, yes it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," she whispered.

Dumbledore could not take holding the small boy much longer and stepped over the low wall; walking up to Number Four Privet Drive. He set Harry Potter very gently on the doorstep and tucked a small letter into the blankets that surrounded the young boy.

Dumbledore returned to the other two and the three of them stood there; staring at the still bundle.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Hagrid got back onto the motorcycle and drove off into the night; still sniffing loudly.

"I shall see you soon I expect, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore said. She sniffed back at him sadly.

Dumbledore walked down the street; pain filling his heart as he clicked the small sliver instrument; allowing all of the lights to return to their places; lighting up the small bundle on a doorstep. Dumbledore felt as if he were abandoning the young boy; leaving him here to a family that he knew did not want the boy.

"Good luck Harry," was all he could say before disapparating; the crack filling the silence.

He reappeared back on the misty grounds of Hogwarts castle; the darkness surrounding him as he walked to the gates. The gates swung open at his touch and he entered; slowly making his way through the castle and into his office, saying, "lemon drops," as the password.

As he entered his office he was shocked to see Snape sitting in a chair; slumped over the back and sobbing uncontrollably into his arms.

Snape looked up with a jerk; agony and pain written over his face.

"I thought… you were going… to keep her safe,"

"She and James put their faith in the wrong person," Dumbledore said; instantly understanding what Snape was speaking of. His heart gave a pang as Snape let out a horrible sound. "Rather like you Severus," Dumbledore continued, "Weren't you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?"

Snape breathed shallowly; staring at Dumbledore.

"Her boy survives," Dumbledore said, remembering the small bundle.

Snape jerked his head as if he did not care for the boy.

"Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily's eyes, I am sure?"

"DON"T!" Snape practically screamed, "Gone… dead,"

"Is this remorse, Severus?" Dumbledore asked him.

"I wish… I wish _I_ were dead…"

"And what use would that be to anyone?" Dumbledore asked coldly; his mind flashing back to those he had lost… those he had not been able to save…. "If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear,"

Snape looked up at Dumbledore for a moment before he seemed to understand what Dumbledore had said.

"What-what do you mean?" he gasped.

"You know how and why she died," Dumbledore said to him, "Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son," As he said this, remorse for leaving the boy on the doorstep filled him. That was not protecting the boy… that was putting him in a place where no one would ever love him…. But he pushed the thought out of his head. The boy would be in safe hands; safe from those who would want to destroy him.

"He does not need protection," Snape was saying, "The Dark Lord has gone-"

"The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does,"

Snape hesitated; not answering Dumbledore as he considered what the older man had said. "Very well. Very well. But never-never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear… especially Potter's son… I want your word!"

"My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?" Dumbledore asked, looking into the angry face of Snape. "If you insist…"

"Very well," Snape said, composing his face and standing up. He strode over to the door of the headmaster's office and opened it; striding out stiffly.

Dumbledore watched him go; sadness filling him.


End file.
